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I feel you Kendrick!

Time to get up. Use the phone as your bible after The Lord’s Prayer. Trump is still president. Scroll all the way up and then remember to click on Moments. Nothing has changed since 3:38 am. Give into the usual pangs for Instagram and check on the wedding in Morocco. Have all the guests arrived yet? Yes, they have and they aren’t missing you. Swing out of bed and empty the bladder that nagged you for the last two hours. Wash your mouth and face and stare at the mirror. You look fine. Change into the attire that carries you outdoors for a quick coffee run. Don’t leave until you set up your workstation and don’t forget the plug. Ok computer! Exit the building you don’t own and light the sky with hopes that your days glued to the screen won’t arrest the rest of your days. The guy on the other side is always nice and never calls you Ma’am, which is nice. The coffee is also nice and hot. Arrive back at the sublet and briefly nudge the front door handle that is coming undone. Place the jug of water on the coffee table and begin the dance with moves that never change. Fill up the bottle, put the rest in the fridge, allow the yogurt to chill. Take the coffee and water to the couch and embody the stage as you prepare for the performance of your bi-weekly paycheck. You have to rise to the occasion with very little mistakes. You have to focus on being good at convincing co-workers and managers of your instinctual pull towards generic content that never disappoints. Click, enter credentials, click, greet your inbox, scan, delete, scroll up, delete, retrieve, move back to inbox, assign to folders, admire almost empty page, open links, highlight, copy and paste, check the time, the quiet reminds you to continue binge-watching Lost, turn down the volume, continue programming.

The content is robust today. Viral stuff about kids dying, Trump’s “Death to Mankind World Tour”, and Scott Disick’s high paying gig as the most “sensible Kardashian” not to mention the daily reminder that women can’t cope without the affection of Instagram followers. Speaking of Instagram, it’s time for a break. The goal of this mid-morning interlude is to clean house by turning “off” all notifications tabs. Does it even matter? I still check to see if the wedding guests in Morocco are decked out in the customized kaftans I visualized for them and a brief scroll confirms my lust. Back to work. Emails indicate that I wrongly categorized a piece as love/sex instead of family/relationships. My bad! The correction takes a minute. I head to the fridge and yank away an apple. I lean on the counter and take bites as I watch Jack remember his life before the plane crashed on that Island. Time to pee. Flush, wash hands with pride and re-shift my nappy growth. Nappy is happy! Nappy is happy! Nappy is happy! I stop uttering the mantra once the lights are out. Whoa! Sawyer is sexy! I Google him once I’m back at work and I’m shocked that he isn’t married to a Black woman. I could’ve sworn… My editorial meeting is in fifteen minutes. Wait! Why am I annoyed? I don’t have to go anywhere! Ha! She goes through the agenda while I listen, binge-watch, and send out mandatory Tweets to keep my numbers from dipping below 1K. At the end, I give highlights and lowlights, and then it’s back to releasing the content in my queue and setting up next day pitches. Looking good! This piece about a man who captured the birth of his child right before his wife died after labor will be a hit. Sex doesn’t have to be a pain after childbirth, so listen up! Also, you can spot a player from miles away — lets tell you how!

Time flies by when you’re balancing two laptops, an iPhone and Netflix. I don’t have to sign out because there are no busybodies silently stalking my screen. I can switch from booty shorts to the version that is appropriate for the elliptical machine — that I will very shortly mount with my portable sound system. I FEEL the impact of Kendrick Lamar serenading the end of the American Dream — and the beginning of a reality that I’m concocting — while checking on the wedding guests attending an event that I was invited to via clicks — and the screenplay I’m revising as I program the 10 Things You Shouldn’t Tell Your Friends About Your Marriage.

All in a days work!

Written by

Juggling Wordsmith. I have a lot to say! https://medium.com/membership https://www.patreon.com/Ezziegirl

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